Some Nights
by seirios aster
Summary: It's June, 1981, and Regulus Black certainly hadn't expected to surviving betraying Voldemort. He knew he should avoid his former life, but he'd never been very wise, especially considering family.
1. Stay Up Cashing In Bad Luck

_This story is best read in tandem with Raeynn Beau's _Strip My Mind_ and follows the first chapter of that fic, "Californication."_

* * *

Regulus Black set the plates of food down on the table and wondered how he had arrived where he was. It seemed like more than half a year had passed since he had faked his death, but of all the scenarios he had considered might play out, he hadn't expected that he would end up waiting tables in Muggle London.

When he had decided to betray Voldemort, Regulus had realized he would be a bit of an idiot if he made the effort alone. The Department of Mysteries was out as an ally simply because Voldemort had a spy high in their ranks, so Regulus had contacted a government he knew wouldn't communicate readily with the Ministry without making a big stink about sovereignty and not knowing anything about what they were talking about. The Americans had been more than willing to help, given that any front the Cold War could be fought on was fair game, not that Voldemort had any communist connections. Regulus gathered it was more of a game of making sure none of the country's allies looked unstable. The mess with Voldemort definitely qualified as unstable.

Regulus sighed as he went about his work, wishing he hadn't been saddled with the awful tippers yet again. He made enough money for a crappy little flat out in Brixton, but he scarcely had any left over to do more than pay the bills and eat. Times like these he wished he had stayed in the United States. He had been offered amnesty and safe harbor after he had almost died, but after writing up everything he knew about Voldemort and his horcruxes, Regulus had decided to return to Britain and leave the relative safety of northern Virginia behind. He didn't like that he had abandoned his family, and from what one of his doctors told him, Sirius hadn't taken his death anything nearing well. Regulus thus felt it was more of a duty than anything else to keep an eye on his brother, not that he had any time for it.

James Potter sufficed, in any case, and Regulus knew that if Sirius had been faced with a choice between the two, Potter would have been the one to live, not Regulus. Really, it was better things had turned out this way. Sirius didn't have to worry about trying to keep Regulus out of trouble with the wizard cops and also had a brother to keep him from doing something mind-numbingly stupid.

Usually Regulus didn't wax maudlin as much as he was, but he knew he couldn't stop thinking about Sirius because of the date. His brother turned twenty-one today. That was the drinking age in the States, but the pretty medwitch who had treated Regulus after … well, she had supplied him with enough wine to drink himself into oblivion. The woman hadn't really approved of his drinking to excess, but she seemed to understand.

Once Regulus's shift was over, he took to wandering the city. He honestly wanted to go home and sleep forever, but home was a place he couldn't go any more. Mum would probably disown him once she found out what he had done. Dad's reaction, that Regulus was unsure of. On one hand, he imagined his father telling him job well done but don't do that ever again. On the other, he feared his father would react much as his mother would. Orion Black had never seemed to care one way or the other about politics, but Regulus knew his father had an opinion on it. Given how their family had been torn apart over the damn war, he had to.

Regulus grimaced as he made a misstep and wrenched his bad ankle. The healers had done their best to fix him up, but some of the injuries Bellatrix had inflicted were still troubling him. He was glad at this point that Bellatrix hadn't decided to hamstring him, although severing the Achilles tendon had been about as effective. The medwitch had managed to restore his leg to working order, but he still favored it. She insisted that it would go away over time, but Regulus had felt like a fool having to use a crutch just in case his ankle gave, even for those short months.

He tugged at his collar, feeling overheated. It was what he got for wearing a black oxford shirt in summer. Regulus looked down at his hands and wondered if he was doing the right thing by running. He was running; he knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. He should have been going after Voldemort's horcruxes. He was in the UK. He had access. He could have located and stolen at least one or two more. But here he was, just living.

Feeling guilty and wandering the city had never been a good combination for Regulus. Today, especially, considering that his train of thought had led him to Diagon Alley. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that Sirius would have gone out with the Potters and Lupin at least. Well, that was a bit inaccurate. Lupin would have at least had enough presence of mind to drag Sirius out of his bed, the bottle, or both.

Regulus looked different enough that no one quite recognized him. He knew that. This was not his first sojourn into Diagon Alley since his return to London. The scarring from what Bellatrix had done was fairly extensive, although Regulus supposed he wasn't hideous. The medwitch said the ones on his face were barely noticeable and more like scars from scratches, but Regulus had the feeling she was just being nice. The ones on his back were objectively terrible to look at, but Bellatrix thankfully didn't much favor her whip. Regulus shook his head to dispel the memories. He didn't need to think on that, and no one would recognize him. He had to keep that in mind. Bellatrix wouldn't be able to hurt him again. She wouldn't think of him if she saw a man dressed in Muggle clothing with hair longer than Sirius's. He was dead, after all.

Regulus's meandering path brought him past Knockturn Alley, just the place he wanted to avoid. However, he faintly heard the sounds of a scuffle. He knew he probably should not interfere.

He shouldn't.

Regulus cursed himself as he crept towards the scene. His blood turned to ice in his veins as he realized that Bellatrix and her minions were the antagonists. Regulus tried to retreat, but he was frozen in fear. He couldn't let her see him. If she recognized him, he was worse than dead. Hell, if she noticed him, he might as well AK himself before she had the chance to lay her hands on him again. No one would be willing to save him this time.

Then the screaming started.

Regulus knew it was the Cruciatus. There was nothing else in the world that inflicted agony in that manner. At least, Regulus was fairly certain there wasn't. He had suffered under the curse enough to feel confident in its effects, but he knew some people considered there to be worse fates than the pain curse. He could interfere, couldn't he? Without Bellatrix noticing him? It wouldn't take much to interfere. He'd only have to send a blasting curse at a wall and cut her off from her victim. The Aurors would likely show up soon as well. That was one hell of an ungodly scream, after all.

Yes, he could interfere like that. Rubble was already strewn everywhere. Bellatrix wouldn't be able to tell if a wall just collapsed a bit later than expected or if one of the Order decided to show up. Regulus wouldn't have put it past Lily to stick a charm on Sirius warning her of impending stupidity. It would likely go off every five minutes, but that was his brother.

Merlin, that was his brother. What could have caused Sirius to think battling Bellatrix was a good idea? Nothing in Regulus's mind immediately jumped out at him. He was in fact fairly certain that there was nothing to justify it in the least. Regulus could only repeat _damn_ over and over in his head as he made his way from his hiding spot to a suitable position for his scheme. Bellatrix had just let up on the curse and was smirking smugly as Sirius ceased screaming. There was enough room between his cousin and his brother for Regulus to collapse a bit of the wall, and he sent the spell off not a moment too soon. The apparation noises as the Aurors began to arrive were expected, but Regulus had to check on his brother before fleeing the scene like Bellatrix and her husband (and Rabastard) looked to be contemplating. They still had a couple minutes to make their decision, but it was unlikely they would try anything as stupid as side-along apparation with Sirius at this juncture.

Regulus quickly apparated himself to the side of the rubble with his brother, certain enough that the Death Eaters wouldn't do the same given the impending Auror swarm. Sirius was lying on the ground, staring dazedly upwards at the sky. Regulus didn't much blame him for being a bit out of it. That always happened with the Cruciatus. When they had been children, Bellatrix had cast it on them in order to show them how to make it less awful. At least, that had been her excuse. Sirius hadn't much been fazed by it, even if Regulus had always felt like it was tearing him up on the inside and leaving behind a gory mess. Andromeda had put a stop to that, and Regulus had never loved his cousin more than when she did.

Leaning over his brother, Regulus checked to see if Sirius had managed to give himself a concussion or worse. Sirius's eyes reacted properly, so it wasn't likely he'd suffered brain damage, but it didn't look as if he even noticed the light. A brief moment of terror gripped Regulus, inciting him to check his older brother's pulse as it had made him wonder nonsensically if Bellatrix had instead killed Sirius. He felt a pulse, a strong one at that, and Regulus let himself breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn't imagining things. Sirius was alive. He'd probably even be okay once the healers at St. Mungo's got a hold of him.

There were more an more sounds of apparation, and Regulus's courage finally failed. He needed to leave. He was the only one near his brother, and to make matters worse, he also had a garish tattoo on his left arm supposedly signaling a lifetime of service to a homicidal maniac. If he stayed, there was only one place he would end up, and Regulus had no intention of living out the rest of his days in that hell-hole. Azkaban wasn't even fit to house the dementors.

"I'm sorry," Regulus murmured, wishing he could stay and wishing he could say more. He wished he could tell Sirius he had been right and Regulus had been so awfully wrong. That there was more wrong with Bellatrix than Sirius had ever imagined, that there was nothing wrong with muggle-borns or half-bloods or anything. That everything that had been ingrained in them as children was wrong. That he was so, so sorry for everything he had put his brother through. Sirius didn't deserve what he had ended up receiving as a result of Regulus's 'death'. That the Ministry would look at Sirius as a suspect was absurd. Anyone with half a brain would have known it was Bellatrix, but then again, that required the Ministry to have more than half a brain. Regulus wasn't even sure that the elder Crouch had a thousandth of one, and that was the man who played judge, jury, and executioner to whomever was accused of serving Voldemort. All the spies in Voldemort's ranks were lucky that Crouch hadn't cottoned on to them yet. Otherwise, who knew? Maybe Severus and Pettigrew would be sent to the Chateau d'If of the North Sea by now if Crouch had.

With one last look at his brother, Regulus repeated his apology before fleeing. That, at least, he knew he was good at.


	2. Call It A Draw

_Follows the second chapter of RaeynnBeau's Strip My Mind, "Torture Me"._

* * *

This was quite possibly one of the stupidest things that Regulus Black had ever done in his life. He counted every other stupid thing he had done in that decision, too. Betraying Voldemort was less harebrained than his current actions. Okay, so no one was likely to pay much attention to him given that he had a legitimate (-ish) reason to be stuck in the St Mungo's waiting room. Given the kind of triage they practiced, his self-inflicted injury was unlikely to be paid attention to for a while. Hopefully, that would be after his brother was discharged.

Again, this course of action was the stupidest thing Regulus had ever done.

Typically, the healers would likely hold a Cruciatus victim for a few hours, but Regulus was fairly certain that Sirius would annoy the hell out of everyone to the point they'd shorten the required time by at least a third. With a sigh, Regulus decided he needed to stop worrying so much and try to remember how to fix his arm so he could leave as soon as he made sure his brother was fine. If not, he'd have to be treated by the healers at St Mungo's, and Merlin knew any given friend or former classmate of his could recognize him, not to mention Andromeda. Thus, it would be best to remember how to heal the gash.

As he was thinking, Regulus noticed Potter and Lily leave. He hadn't even seen them come in to the hospital. Well, that meant good news, at least. The two of them didn't seem so worried. More than usual, that is. And there was Lupin followed by a possibly nauseated Sirius.

Regulus quickly patched up his arm with a couple of basic healing spells (he'd do it properly later) and made to follow the two Marauders. They caught the Knight Bus, and Regulus kept from swearing a blue streak. He couldn't follow them on that damn thing, not without an actual disguise. Hoping neither of the two noticed, he quickly cast a tracking spell on Lupin, who had yet to board the bus and was likely going to be vomited on if Regulus knew his brother at all.

Figuring it might be a while before Lupin dropped Sirius off wherever he was going to, Regulus wandered over to the nearest Tube station. There was no real reason for him to travel by subway, but an enforced waiting period was probably a good idea given his mental state. He wasn't sure if Sirius had moved recently, but with the strange set-up at that flat Sirius used to live in, he might be somewhere else. Meadowes was still about, wasn't she? Regulus wasn't sure if she had been killed or not. The Prewetts had died a while back, which probably wasn't conducive to her mental health. He was fairly certain that Frank Longbottom had moved out of that flat when he had married Alice, Wielder of the Frying Pan of Destiny (Meadowes' name for her). Regulus knew for a fact that Lupin had moved out in early January, however. Sirius had said something about Marlene McKinnon and a huge mess that involved chocolate ice cream. McKinnon was dead now. Regulus knew that for a fact. She had been nice to him at school, and he'd seen the obituary in the newspaper a couple days into his current job.

Idly, Regulus checked his watch. It had been around twenty minutes, so he got off at the next stop and left the Underground. In a nearby alley, he checked the tracking spell. Lupin was at Sirius's flat. Apparently, Regulus's brother hadn't moved in the past couple months. That made things easier. He wouldn't have to try and work around wards to check up on him. Sirius likely hadn't cancelled the exception made for his little brother. Regulus didn't have a key, but he was nevertheless wary of attempting to apparate into the apartment.

What the hell was he thinking? Going to see Sirius and saying, "Oh, sorry, so I'm not dead, thought you should know," or even better, "Please don't get yourself killed; it would be most unpleasant"? That wouldn't end well, and neither would trying to sneak up on his brother and casting a charm much like the one he had mentally joked about Lily casting. Even though Regulus was named after the brightest star in Leo, Sirius was the one with the cat-like reflexes. He was also the one with the combat training. Regulus figured he'd be lucky if the worst thing Sirius cast was a cutting curse. Best-case scenario, Regulus would have to convince Sirius that he was okay and that the bleeding wasn't too bad and oh, yes, he wasn't dead. Worst-case scenario, Sirius would AK him. No, that wasn't worst case. Worst-case had more Bellatrix in it and maybe also some Azkaban. Mostly Bellatrix, though.

Regulus shuddered and dispelled the tracker. Maybe he wasn't in the best mental state to talk to—or even spy on—Sirius right now. To be honest, the best course of action was likely to go home and get hammered on whatever awful liquor he had at his flat. That wouldn't fix the problem, and he would likely end up even more upset, but it had a smaller chance of him spooking his brother too badly. He might end up thinking it was a great idea to go apparate and spill the entire story to Sirius after a couple shots, but that was less likely to backfire than doing so intentionally. Regardless, he needed to stop moping in an alleyway.

Trembling, Regulus undid his makeshift bandage and attempted to fix the wound on his arm for real this time. Sure, he was in the middle of an alleyway, but people ignored what they wanted to. The cut was oozing a little, but his earlier stopgaps were still more-or-less holding. Regulus undid those spells with a wince and began to cast the more complicated spell that would completely heal the mess he made of his arm.

"Fuck," he ground out in pain. He wasn't used to healing himself without painkillers. Back when he had served Voldemort, Regulus had taken more opiates than he cared to admit. His track record with the Death Eaters had been liberally peppered with incompetence and general cowardice to the point that his only saving grace had been his ability at healing. Coincidentally, that had been the only reason he hadn't been found out for a Death Eater in the first place. Else, someone would have noticed how beat-up he was after every meeting.

Regulus considered trying to get something to dull the pain. However, he wasn't going to a doctor and risk getting found out. Furthermore, he didn't have access to anything of which he knew the concentration, and there was no way in hell he was going to risk the illicit form cut with God-knows-what. Besides, it wasn't like he had enough money to buy some—

What the hell was he thinking? He didn't need anything like _that_. Hell, this was only codeine-worthy at most! Acetaminophen or aspirin might have sufficed!

Yes, going home and sleeping was the best idea. A codeine was good enough, and he didn't have to do more than break into his stash of general pain medication to find some of that. Mixing the drug with alcohol with the way his mind was working at the moment was not the best of ideas, either. So sleeping was the best idea. There was nothing else he should do.

After apparating close to his flat, he slowly walked up the stairs to his floor. He hadn't done much today, but he still felt like utter shit. Maybe it was the cool-down from indirectly challenging Bellatrix. That had to have given him the adrenaline rush of his life. He hadn't been that scared since… well, in a while.

As Regulus fumbled with his keys, his neighbor opposite opened the door to her flat. There was a party going on, as per usual. Regulus never really minded. A little bit of background noise was welcomed, to be honest. With a sigh, he gave up trying to open the door in a timely manner and weakly waved hello at her.

"Rough day, eh, Black?" she inquired with not a touch of amusement. "Thought you'd have stumbled in a bit later, drunk off your arse. No drinking tonight?"

"Not tonight. Ran into some old acquaintances. Didn't go well," he prevaricated.

His neighbor arched an eyebrow but didn't question him further on that account. She did, however, ask, "You all right? You look like you hurt your arm or something."

"Fell on it wrong. Slipped at work," Regulus lied. He did not need this right now.

"Oh," she said, "Well, I hope you feel better."

"Thanks," Regulus murmured, finally managing to unlock his damn door. He wished his neighbor goodnight, and she let him go, although he was fairly certain she wanted to sit him down and interrogate him. Regulus knew that she was a nurse at one of the local hospitals and had decided for some reasons unknown to him that he was completely incapable of taking care of himself. Ruby really did mean well, but damn, she could be stifling sometimes.

First thing he did upon entering the apartment was flopping down onto the couch and staring at the ceiling. He should have checked in on Sirius himself. Sure, Lupin wouldn't have left him alone if there was really something wrong, but there was something that made him just want to go make sure. Temporarily winning against inertia, Regulus grabbed the half-empty bottle of gin he'd left on the coffee table the night before.

Of course, that was about as far as he got. Apparently staring at it was the best he could do for the moment. The pain wasn't so bad that he—Oh, right. The codeine. But that was on the other side of the flat. All the way in the bathroom. So far away…

Regulus took a swig of the gin and managed to propel himself to standing upright. He stumbled over to the bathroom and his medicine cabinet and spent about a minute trying to figure out where in the name of God he had left the Syndol. It was behind the aspirin? Yes, it was behind the aspirin. He took one with water (at least he had enough presence of mind to not wash it down with gin) and managed to make it to his crappy bed. Doing more than collapsing onto the duvet was beyond him at this point.

Where had he left the gin…? He didn't have it with him. Was it in the bathroom? Probably. Well, he didn't really care where he'd left it. It was somewhere in the flat not on the bed. Good. He didn't need to wake up in the morning smelling like a distillery.

Regulus wasn't sure how long he had been lying there on the bed when he woke up, but he knew it was sometime in the middle of the night. Thankfully, he hadn't dreamed, which knowing the potential subjects of them would have been a living hell. Feeling more numb than anything else, Regulus downed the remainder of the glass of water he kept by his bed. He couldn't remember the last time he had filled the cup. It had likely been a couple days previous.

Head still fuzzy, he tried to remember what in the hell he had wanted to do before passing out. Taking medication had been taken care of, Regulus was certain. His arm didn't hurt so bad now. Actually, nothing hurt so bad at the moment.

Oh! Make sure Sirius was okay! Yes, that had been his mission. Lupin had escorted Regulus's silly older brother back to (what was at one time but maybe not anymore) their flat. Silly Sirius, trying to take on Bella. Bad idea. Bad things happen when one of the Black brothers tries to cross Bella.

Nope. Not thinking about that. Those thinky thoughts are bad. Ba-a-a-ad. Yes, bad Regulus. No thinking about evil lady.

Apparating would be quickest. Yes. Good plan. Pop in quickly and beam self back out. Like Captain Kirk. 'Cept transporter noises were actually kinda quiet. Apparation was louder, but not so loud as the shwiiiiiiir-shwiiiiiiir noise of the TARDIS.

Focus.

Regulus took a deep breath and calmed down a little. Okay, he could function now.

Kind of.

He grabbed his wand and apparated into his brother's flat despite better judgement and to the rather odd scene of Sirius screaming bloody murder and flailing off a couch all tangled in blankets. Well, Regulus reflected, that was rather par for the course with Sirius. The flailing whilst tangled in blankets off a couch and into a coffee table, that is. Not the screaming bloody murder. That usually was accompanied by the Cruciatus or moths. Ha. Moths. Wait, was that Grandmother who was afraid of moths? It might have been. Fuzzy brain.

Anyway, mission accomplished. Sirius was a-okay excepting the screaming for some reason. Might have been from the hitting the coffee table. Regulus was a bit uncertain of the timing now, and the incident had only happened a minute ago. And, really, moths were rather cute in a furry kind of way.

That was when it really sank in that Regulus was A) in his brother's flat, B) standing around like an idiot, and C) unable to escape.

So, he did the only rational thing and hid behind the couch.


End file.
